Once is Chance
by IronAmerica
Summary: Once is chance, twice is a coincidence. Three times is enemy action and enough call for a rocket launcher. (Minor crossover with Covert Affairs)


So, a new Cape fic! Do not meddle with former CIA agents or their children.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Once is Chance

_Once is Chance  
_

Dana knows her son is trying to adjust to losing his father. She's trying to adjust to losing her husband, who was also her best friend. Vince was the one adult she'd ever let herself get close to—outside the Agency, but… Well, that was neither here nor there.

Cultivating normal relationships outside of the CIA had never been her strong suit. She'd been good at finding legal loopholes to run through on missions in foreign countries. She'd been an amazing covert agent. She'd done good things while undercover. But never, ever had she been able to cultivate non-work friends or contacts. (It was part of why she'd been able to adjust to being a lawyer, at one point.) Vince had been the first.

So, when Trip told her that his new friend was a costumed superhero, Dana brushed it aside. Everyone had different coping mechanisms.

Hers was just a lot more violent than inventing imaginary vigilantes to keep her company.

_Twice is Coincidence  
_

One more mention of Trip's imaginary friend, and Dana is pretty sure she'll consider drinking. She knows her son took Vince's death hard. She knows. She does. She's lost friends in the line of duty before. Some of them were close. Some closer than others, but… Well, she's never been hit _this_ hard. She wishes she could take Fleming for a long ride that he'd never come back from, but that would require international kidnapping—and she's no longer an active agent. This is going to drive her crazy. She wants her life to go back to normal, when her son didn't have night terrors every single night, didn't have to endure whispers and taunts and getting beaten up at school…

Dana wants Vince back. But she never learned the super secret art of bringing people back from the dead, so she's out of luck.

The only thing she can get out of her son these days are stories about the Cape and what he's done since his last visit. She's about ready to go to the range again and unload a few dozen clips into a target until it's turned into confetti. (It's the only way she'll be calm enough to sleep after work, in a job that she hates.)

The _Cape_ is getting on her damn nerves.

_Three times is enemy action...  
_

It's the third time that does it. And it's not even Trip's fault.

Dana knows thirty-eight different ways to kill someone with a wineglass, and that's not counting the ways she can poison someone with a good glass of red wine. It's Marty's fault that she snaps. Really, it is. He and Susan came over for a bi-weekly get-together. Susan brought a fairly decent red wine (it's not Dana's favorite French vintage, but that's quite a bit outside Susan's price range—it might be in Peter Fleming's, though…). Then, out of the blue, Trip walked through the room, mentioned that he was going up to the roof, and vanished again through another door.

Marty's off-handed comment about hoping her son didn't run into any vigilantes up there is what does it. Everything slides into place. Dana sees red, and begs off the rest of the evening by claiming a headache. Her son claiming that his favorite comic book has come to life to be his friend is one thing. Having it confirmed by a rational adult—even an asshole like Marty Voyt—is another thing entirely.

She heads to her room and digs a box out from under her bed. In it are her old handgun, an ID with a hole punched through the magnetic strip, and a cell phone. There is one number programmed into it. Dana lets it ring until someone on the other end picks up.

There are many things she will tolerate. Stalkers—pedophile stalkers, no less—are not on that list.

"Hello Joan," Dana said warmly, smiling. "What's the going rate for a black-market rocket launcher these days?"

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Hoping for more of the CIA!Dana 'verse? Drop a line and let me know!


End file.
